Great Smokey Mountains National Park (Great Smokey Mountains National Park)

Twenty or so years ago, I was visiting my grandmother in Kentucky. On the way home, I decided to take a right turn instead of the left (that I knew was suppose to take me home) and drove until I caught my first glimpse of the Atlantic Ocean in Charleston, South Carolina. That trip was my initiation to a one of my greatest passions: travel. On that trip, I right through the middle of the Great Smokey Mountains National Park, but didn't take time to really enjoy the park. Every since my wife and I have been together, I have been intending to take advantage of the fact that her family lives only an hour or so from the park to really spend some quality time there. 

As we were spending Christmas with my wife's family, I decided to renew my interest in the park and while I still didn't get to do the hiking I wanted to due to time constraints, an afternoon driving through the Smokies has wet my appetite. There is not much to tell of this trip, other than to share a couple of pictures. 

I had hoped to hike to Clingman's Dome, the highest point in the park, but the road was closed due to snow and my time was short on this day trip. Next time though. As you can see from the pictures though, this park has a lot of contrast to offer to my normal hikes. The lushness of this deciduous forest is quite different than the alpine and desert terrains near my home in Reno, NV.

Patching together a few shots, I was able to illustrate the unique smokey feature that gives these mountains their name (originally named this by the Cherokee). Quite beautiful.

Biltmore Estate (Buncombe County, North Carolina)

While spending Christmas with my wife's family near Asheville, North Carolina, we came into some free tickets to tour the famous Biltmore Estate, the famous estate of the Vanderbilts, which was built between 1889 and 1895. We couldn't pass up the opportunity and so my wife and I, along with her two younger brother's and their wives (or soon to be in one case) decided to make a day of it.

Meeting up just outside the estate, we parked and took a shuttle through the magnificently kept grounds to the Biltmore House, which at one time was the largest private estate in the nation. The tour during the holiday season is punctuated with the magnificent decorations put up by the staff and true to the way the Vanderbilts celebrated the holiday in decades past. 

The mansion is expansive and we were able to tour large sections of it, though I'm told that in years past the tour was even more comprehensive. No complaints on my part though, it was still interesting to see the original furnishings and utilities, including an indoor swimming pool and exercise room (wooden dumbells, lol).

Finishing the tour of the house, we made our way to the estate winery. While most of the fruit is grown in California, they do have a small vinyard nearby and produced a unique cabernet sauvignon with the local grapes. As anyone that knows me is fully aware, hiking and wine are two of my great passions, and so this was right up my alley. We had the opportunity to tour the facility and taste a number of their wines - the syrah was noteworthy.

Afterwards, we made our way back to the cars and headed out. It was a terrific day though and fantastic time with family. I'm very glad we were all able to do this together.

Georgia Guidestones (Elbert County, Georgia)

Planning to spend Christmas with my wife's Family in the mountains of western North Carolina and knowing that we were going to drive there after landing in Atlanta, I couldn't help but plan a little diversion or two during our trip - the first? The Georgia Guidestones.

I first heard about this modern and mysterious landmark on one of those top 10 lists somewhere and it sparked my curiosity. These massive granite monoliths were erected on the tallest point in Elbert County in 1980 under mysterious circumstances. The group responsible remains anonymous, though they claim to be seeking an age of reason and offer these words of wisdom to that age:

• Maintain humanity under 500,000,000 in perpetual balance with nature.
• Guide reproduction wisely — improving fitness and diversity.
• Unite humanity with a living new language.
• Rule passion — faith — tradition — and all things with tempered reason.
• Protect people and nations with fair laws and just courts.
• Let all nations rule internally resolving external disputes in a world court.
• Avoid petty laws and useless officials.
• Balance personal rights with social duties.
• Prize truth — beauty — love — seeking harmony with the infinite.
• Be not a cancer on the earth — Leave room for nature — Leave room for nature.

These ten directives are inscribed in eight different languages (English, Spanish, Swahili, Hindi, Hebrew, Arabic, Chinese, and Russian), each on a different face of the upright guidestones. There are additional writing on the edges of the capstone in various languages, including Egyptian hieroglyphics. The entire monument is also designed in such a way to observe astronomical phenomena, to add further mystery to the site.

While these directives have drawn a fair amount of ridicule and hatred, I can't say that anything there strikes me as unreasonable, but I won't go into the politics of it here. For now, just consider this stop if you are ever in the Atlanta, GA area. 

Rocky Mountain National Park (Rocky Mountain National Park)

On our way back to Reno, from spending Thanksgiving with my family in the St. Louis area, we spent the night in Denver. My first thought was curiosity about Rocky Mountain National Park, which is located about an hour north of the city. While we didn't have much time, I asked a ranger at the visitor center about the best and most scenic way to spend a short time in the park. She thoughtfully recommended a short loop in the northeastern corner of the park. 

As winter is approaching, much of the park is closed due to snow and few visitors dare the cold winds of these altitudes, but that's all the better for me. I love seeing this type of country when it isn't polluted with the populous. 

Even on this short preview, I can tell this is somewhere I will need to spend more time in the future. The views are breathtaking, even in this small preview of what the park has to offer. All in all, we only spend about 45 minutes driving through the park, but I will definitely be back to do some hiking and further exploring.

Eagle Watching along the Great River Road (Madison County, Illinois)

Stop number two while at home was more of a search than a stop. As my hometown, Alton, IL, sits alongside the Mississippi River, it is known as a wintering spot for the majestic bald eagle. Though, the appear in great numbers from December to March, I thought I would take my luck and try to find some in late November, while we were in the area. It wasn't difficult.

Heading north up the Great River Road, I spotted a couple of specimens in a tree at the foot of Clifton Terrace. They are such large birds. I have seen them up close at some preserves and in an upright perch much like that seen in the photo, they are often over two feet tall. 

They gaze out over the river looking for any sign of a fish leaping from the water, which when exposed and snatched from the flowing river will make a fine meal for the great raptor.

All in all, I spotted five birds today in only about 30 minutes, including one fighting against the howling winds in Grafton. Such magnificent animals, it's not wonder they have been adopted as a symbol of our great nation.

Piasa Bird (Madison County, Illinois)

For Thanksgiving this year, my wife and I drove from Reno, NV to Alton, IL (my hometown) to visit my mother and grandfather for the holiday. While we had a terrific visit with my family, I decided to go on a couple of quick outings to visit some of my hometown's heritage. 

The first stop was to see the legendary Piasa Bird, which is currently painted on the limestone bluffs along the Mississippi River, just north of Alton. As history tells it, the explorers Marquette and Joliet traveled through this area in 1673. As they floated down the mighty river, they were taken aback by a large image drawn on the high bluffs. They asked the local Native Americans about it, and the tale below (as written on a stone plaque at the current site reads).

Since then, the legendary creature has had several incarnations along the bluffs above Alton. As a young child, I remember it painted a bit further north than it's current location at a place called Norman's Landing, and later a steel plaque cut and painted into the bird's shape mounted on top of that earlier painting. Currently, the bird sits above some quarried caves in a small city park dedicated to the terror. Fact or fiction, it's part of Alton's rich heritage and worthy of a mention on my blog.

The Legend of the Piasa

MANY THOUSAND MOONS before the arrival of the palefaces, when the great magolonyx and mastodon, whose bones are now dug up, were still living in this land of green prairies, there existed a bird of such dimensions that he could easily carry off in his talons a full grown deer. Having obtained a taste for human flesh, from that time, he would prey upon nothing else.

He was as artful as he was powerful, would dart suddenly and unexpectedly upon an Indian, bear him off into one of the caves of the bluffs, and devour him.

Hundreds of warriors attempted for years to destroy him, but without success.

Whole villages were nearly depopulated, and consternation spread throughout all the tribes of the Illini.

At length, Ouatoga, a chief whose fame as a warrior extended even beyond the great lakes, separated himself from the rest of his tribe, fasted in solitude for the space of a while moon, and prayed to the great spirit, the master of life, that he would protect his children from the Piasa.

On the last night of the fast the great spirit appeared to Ouatoga in a dream, and directed him to select 20 of his warriors, each armed with a bow and a poisoned arrow, and conceal themselves in a designated spot.

Near the place of their concealment, another warrior was to stand in open view as a victim for the Piasa, which they must shoot the instant that it pounced upon his prey.

When the chief awoke in the morning, he thanked the great spirit and returning to his tribe, told them of his dream.

The warriors were quickly selected and placed in ambush, as directed. Ouatoga offered himself as the vicitm. He was willing to die for his tribe.

Placing himself in open view of the bluff, he soon saw the Piasa perched on the bluff eyeing his prey. Ouatoga drew up his manly form to its utmost height and planing his feet firmly upon the earh began to chant the death song of a warrior.

A moment after the Piasa rose into the air and swift as a thunderbolt darted down upon the chief. Scarcely had he reached his victim, when every bow was sprung and every arrow sent to the feather into his body.

The Piasa uttered a wild, fearful scream that resounded far over the opposite of the river and expired.

Ouatoga was safe. Not an arrow, not even the talons of the bird had touched him. The master of life, in admiration of the generous deed of Ouatoga had held an invisible shield over him.

In memory of this event, the image of the Piasa was engraved on the bluff. Such is the Indian tradition.

Skunk Harbor (Carson City, Nevada)

 

About 6 miles south of Sand Harbor and about 2.5 miles north of the junction of NV 28 and US 50, there is an locked iron gate with a small pull-off overlooking Lake Tahoe. The gate functions as the trail head for a short little hike down to Skunk Harbor. My friend Nate had discovered this gem and I decided to check it out for myself on this glorious blue-skied day.

The pull-off isn't marked, but can accommodate about 5 cars. Luckily, I got here early enough for that not to be a problem. The trail follows an old dirt road down the mountainside and parallel to the lake. After a short distance, it makes a near ninety degree turn and then heads straight for the blue waters below. The trail itself is easy enough with the standard Lake Tahoe combination of greenery and granite. 

After about a mile and a half, a structure comes into view. It's a stone house with grates over the windows and the doors all boarded up. A plaque on the lake-side of the home explains that it was a retreat built by a wealthy family back in the 1920's, which was only accessible boat at that time. It was apparently the site of many picnics and exclusive parties. Since then, ownership has passed to the forest service, who intend to preserve it as an example of that roaring age. While we should all probably consider the welfare and preservation of this wondrous lake-side environment and leave it pristine, I can certainly understand the appeal of wanting to build here. Awaking every morning to this view would be like heaven on earth.

Exploring the small harbor by scrambling over and around some of the larger granite boulders rising from the clear blue water of the lake, yields some very nice pictures. A series of parallel wooden poles rise from the harbor in two rows. I suspect these were once a pier of some sort for the residence's visitors. Alas, time and the lake have reclaimed the surface, as it will one day reclaim the house itself. All things return to nature in time.

Until this day and after dozens, if not hundreds, of trips to the Lake Tahoe, I am still amazed at the clarity and blueness of it's cold waters. It is truly a site to behold. Snapping a few more pictures, I return uphill to the jeep. It's a little steep going back up, but nothing too terrible. This was a short little 3.2 mile out and back hike, but the scenery and history made it well worth the time.

Tahoe Meadows - First Snowstorm (Washoe County, Nevada)

 

Winter has come to the Sierra's. A decently strong storm is in the process of dropping a foot or so of snow in the Mountains above Reno. What should we do? Go hiking in it, of course. My friend Nate and I meet up at a Starbucks on the way up, and hop in the jeep to continue up to the sprawling Tahoe Meadows, which is just past the saddle between Slide Mountain and Mt. Rose. 

The roads are pretty slick, as the plows haven't had a chance to clear any of the newly fallen layer just yet. Making our way to the southern edge of the meadows, we pop a u-turn and park the jeep alongside the huge snowfield. It's cold up here with a strong, cutting wind delivering more snow by the minute. We pack on the layers and head out along what we believe to be the established trail. Both Nate and I have hiked this area quite a bit, but with a few inches of snow on the ground and more in our eyes, finding the trail requires a bit of path-finding.

We make for the treeline in order to get some cover from this wind. It's nice. We are the first ones here, as the lack of any footprints or other disturbance in the snow provides testament to. Some might think us a little crazy for wanting to be out here in this weather, but I can think of no better time. The smell of the forest, the cleanliness of newly fallen powder, the solitude - all these things make this the best place to be right now.

Skirting around the meadow, we hike out to an overlook above Washoe Valley. From there, we should have a great view of the valley below, but the storm clouds obscure it quite a bit. After taking a few pictures, we turn and head back to the jeep. Round trip, we only put in about 3.5 miles, but considering we were trudging through 6-10 inches of snow the whole way, it was a decent workout. Both of us being pretty hungry after our adventure, we stop by a local cafe for a quick breakfast before parting ways to get on with our days. Good times! 

Merced Grove of Giant Sequoias (Yosemite National Park)

The second hike for the day is another grove of mighty sequoias just a few miles away from the previous. The Merced Grove is said to be the smallest in terms of specimens, but it's still worth a visit. 

Find a parking spot here was no easier than at the last stop, but luckily having a jeep means I can make my own spot in some cases. I hit the trail and started down a long stretch of flat dirt road before finally reaching a fork, where a sign indicated the grove was to the left. This is where the downhill started. Nothing terrible, but enough to at least feel it a little bit in my knees. After another mile or so, I finally reach a cluster of giants - six in this case, all close together like a giant football huddle. It seems that sequoias often grow in clusters like this, or at least that has been my observation over the years.

Heading a little further into the woods, I encounter another cluster - fewer, but larger trees this time. There are only three of them here, but each appears to be about 15-18 feet in diameter and approaching 220 feet tall - massive!

Continuing on, I spot a small log cabin boarded up and surrounded by giants. Two of them are on the other side of the trail and approximately the same size as the previous three. In the surrounding woods, I spot 10 or 12 more, but must are considerably younger.

As I push even further on, I begin to notice a lack of specimens. Unfortunately, I'm paying too much attention to the woods and not enough to the trail. A large tree has fallen and it's root system has uplifted 80% the width of the trail, and in my search for more trees, I clumsily step on the edge of what remains only to slip and land on my arse. Thankfully, nothing serious - I only scratched myself up a bit and wounded my pride.

After about half a mile with no sing of a sequoia and with the trial in obvious disrepair (several fallen trees have not been cut away to clear the trail), I decide to turn back, assuming that I passed the end of the grove. They way back is a little steep, but nothing too serious.

As I near the trail head, a doe walks right out of the woods to cross the trail in front of me. She's nice enough to pose for a shot afterwards. All in all, this hike was a little longer than I had expected, about 4.4 miles round trip. It's getting late into the afternoon and I decide to skip my third hike and head back home.

Tuolumne Grove of Giant Sequoias (Yosemite National Park, California)

My intention was to get on the road this morning shortly after 5 and knock out three small hikes in Yosemite that I have been wanting to do. However after turning my alarm off and rolling back over, I didn't wake up until nearly 6. I wasn't sure how the timing will play out, but I figured I would give it a go anyway. First on the list, the Tuolumne Grove of Giant Sequoias just off of highway 120.

The parking lot was packed, but luckily, the park service had opened a dirt area nearby to accommodate extra cars. I tossed my small day pack on and hit the trail. The first mile or so is just an old paved road that doesn't appear to have been in use for many years. As the road/trail zigs and zags downhill to the grove, I'm joined by quite a few other day-hikers, many of which are speaking French. They must be from one of the large tour buses in the parking lot. 

Finally, reaching the first of the giant trees, I find myself in awe all over again. Though I have visited more than a dozen sequoia groves all over California, the site of one of these massive trees never fails to take my breath away. A couple of years ago, my wife and I visited General Sherman in Sequoia National Park, which by some measures is the largest living thing on the planet. The tree before me is considerably smaller than the General, but still an impressive site.

The trail meanders through a couple of small loops passing a few sequoias along the way, including the trunk of a couple of fallen titans. In the picture, the trunk of the tree standing next to the fallen sequoia is over three feet in diameter . . . just to give you a little perspective.

Continuing on to the next loop, I'm greeted by a grizzly site. The husk of a long dead giant stands as a watch tower over the trail. Early enthusiasts in this area cut massive tunnels into some of the trees, one of which stands before me. Unfortunately though, cutting such a large chunk from the trunk was a death sentence for this guy. Such a shame . . .

The trail back up to the jeep is pretty steep, but I set a good pace and make it back pretty quickly. Total distance for this short trek was just short of 3 miles. On to the next grove.

Lassen Peak (Lassen Volcanic National Park, California)

Even with my disappointing attempt to reach the summit of Mt. Whitney last weekend, it's time to get back in the saddle and bag another peak. Lassen Peak is the tallest point in Lassen Volcanic National Park. Though it only rises to 10,457ft, it can be seen from very long distances due to it's prominence. Many pictures I have from the top of other nearby mountains have Lassen Peak in the background. The mountain is the southernmost active volcano in the Cascade range (which includes Mt. Shasta, Mt. Rainier and Mt. St. Helens) and can clearly be seen from the top of Mt. Rose and from just about anywhere within it's namesake park.

For the last couple of years, I have been wanting to hike up to the summit, but the park service has been restoring and improving the trail. Going all the way to the summit has only been possible on a few pre-designated weekends each year, but luckily, this year's labor day weekend is one of those. 

Getting a mid-morning start, I made the two and a half hour drive from Reno to the park, confirming on my way in that the full trail was open. I always love driving through this national park, as there are wonders right alongside the road. The Sulfur Works is a favorite of first timers, as it may be their first exposure to the boiling sulfur-rich mud pools that fill this park. Beyond, the road passes right by Lake Helen, which has to be one of the most gorgeous alpine lakes anywhere in the world. 

Arriving at the trail head, I switch socks and shoes, toss on my small day-pack and begin making my way up the volcanic cone that is Lassen Peak. Surprisingly, there aren't as many people here as I had expected. With the limited windows of opportunity, I fully expected to be parked out on the side of the road and shoulder to shoulder with hikers going up the trail. This isn't to say that there isn't a good crowd, as there is, but just not as many as I thought there would be. 

The trail immediately starts gaining elevation from parking lot, which sits at about 8k, and doesn't stop until the top. There is very little vegetation on this slopes, as it is still comprised of the loose gravel that remained after the powerful eruptions of 1914-1917. I guess there aren't many plants that can take root in this loose landscape, not to mention the wind and cold. All of this makes for a pretty barren trail, but it still holds great beauty. 

Entirely comprised of a series of large switchbacks, the trail makes it's way up the mountain. The recent improvements are evident about half-way up, as newly carved steps and retaining walls finish out the path. I do wish though that they would go for less steps. My knees do much better without them.

All in all, it's a fairly easy 5+ mile hike. Once I reach the summit, I'm greeted by a number of fellow-hikers at an area that has been fashioned as the end point. However, to the northwest, across a small cooled lava field, there is a point that many other hikers are heading for, as it is obviously a bit higher than where we now stand. I can't come this far and not reach the very pinnacle, and so I make my way over there. It's fairly dangerous as the 'trail' climbs steeply up large and loose obsidian boulders. At this point, it really is more rock scrambling than hiking, but eventually, I reach the true summit and take a few pictures, including a shot of Brokeoff Mountain (the remains of the ancient Mt. Tehama), which I hiked up last year, as well as a shot of Prospect Peak and Cinder Cone off in the distance, also past destinations.

On my way down, I find that my footing is even less sure than it was on the way up. I'm lucky enough to have a large rock slide onto my foot as I navigate a path through the rubble. No damage, but ouch! Continuing down, I sort of jog, as the trail is fairly steep and my momentum just wants to carry me. Reaching the jeep, I get comfortable and head for home.

Mt. Whitney (Inyo County, California)

14,505 feet above sea level, highest point in the contiguous United States, "up there" . . . by whatever name one chooses to refer Mt. Whitney, some sort of superlative is in order. For a couple of years now, I have been hoping to conquer this mighty mountain on the eastern edge of California. Entering the lottery in the early sprint, I was lucky enough to secure three passes for late August. And now with the fateful date upon us, it is time for the test.

A couple of friends that had originally planned on joining me were unable to, but after asking around among other friends and co-workers I found two brave souls to accompany me. Bill, who recently backpacked through the Ruby Mountains with me, and his long-time friend, Van.

Heading down Friday morning, we stopped for a great lunch at the Whoa Nellie Deli outside of Lee Vining, which is one of my favorite stops. What other gas station servers lobster taquitos and bison meat loaf? Continuing on to the Ranger Station just outside of Death Valley, we picked up our passes and Bill rented a bear canister. Knowing the forest service requires these devices for food storage within the Whitney Zone, I had purchased one the week before.

Still having a fair amount of time before dark, we drove up through the Alabama Foothills at the base of Mt. Whitney, stumbling across a small natural bridge in the process - pretty cool. After a little exploration and rock scrambling in the desert, we headed on over to Whitney Portal and pitched our tents at the campground, grabbed some dinner at the burger joint at the trail head, and decided to call it a night.

Rising at 4:45, while it was still pitch black outside, we began to break camp and make our way back up the hill to the trail head. Amazingly, we still had to park my truck quite a ways down hill from the trail head, as most of the parking spots at the top were full. The trail head offers a scale for back packers to weigh in on. I was pretty happy to see my pack weigh in at only 35 pounds, including my water - not too bad.

We start up the trail, which immediately starts the long climb from 8,000 feet at the trail head all the way to 14,505 feet at the summit of Whitney. I know I have referred to some trails in the past as moving 'relentlessly' uphill, but I take it all back. This trial is truly relentless. We pass by small waterfalls and scramble across stepping stones to cross small creeks, all the while making our way up this fantastic white gorge with Whitney directly ahead of us most of the way. As the  sun rises, I capture a great shot of the monstrous mountain above us.

Continuing on, we come across Lone Pine Lake, which is spectacular to behold while looking east. We also find a bridge made of logs through a shallow marsh/run-off, which makes for a fun little diversion. 

Reaching Outpost Camp at about 4 miles in, we stop to fill our water supply and admire the small waterfall feeding the creek that runs right through the middle of this popular overnight spot. We continue on though.

Reaching about 11,500 feet, I begin to feel my head expanding and find it harder and harder to catch my breath. I'm a little concerned about these symptoms. Continuing on, I find it more and more difficult to keep my mind focused on any single thought for any amount of time. My companions, Bill and Van have continued on upon my urging.

As I stumble, much like a zombie, into Trail Camp, which sets in an granite gorge just below the 99 switchbacks leading to the crest, I find myself questioning my ability to continue on. We had always planned on camping here tonight, and so, once I find Bill and Van, we set up our tents and I tell them I need a bit to try and recover. We fix some lunch and I continue experiencing the onslaught of symptoms related to altitude sickness. Van agrees that these symptoms are indicative of the condition. 

After about an hour, we decide to try and push on. I'm not convinced that I can make it, but I'm damn sure going to try. Stripping down my backpack and switching over to a lightweight day pack that I had brought along, I start up the 99 switchbacks. My body just isn't acclimating to this altitude though, and after a few hundred hard-fought yards, I decide that being able to breathe is probably more important than reaching the top. I turn back towards camp, as my companions continue upwards. I spend the rest of my afternoon and evening in and out of sleep in my tent, while hoping my head doesn't explode. After about six hours, my companions return with tales of the grandeur of the summit and the struggle to reach it. Bill also started getting sick from the thin air, but not until he had almost reached the top. It was a huge disappointment, but again, my health had to come first.

Overnight temperatures at Trail Camp, sunk below freezing as we found ice on some of our gear when we awoke. Marmots and chipmunks run rampant through camp scrounging for food scraps. As I rise at dawn and climb the hill behind us, I spot what I believe to be a fox off in the distance. I think the overnight stay has helped my altitude sickness and has give my body enough time to at least begin to become accustomed to this thin air. I feel significantly better this morning, and my head feels almost normal sized once again.

As we only have a seven mile down hill hike separating us from the truck, we take our time breaking camp, but eventually hit the trail. It's always amazing to me how difficult downhill can be on a steep trail. It works completely different muscles and while downhill doesn't require the endurance of uphill, acting as shock-absorbers kills the knees. It's made worse by all of the granite steps that have been carved into the trail. I take my time, but finally reach the trail-head a few minutes behind my companions.

I hope someday to get another chance to hike up this mighty peak, but next time, I will most definitely give myself an extra day to acclimate better. I'm disappointed in myself, but I had a great time with some good people, and saw some amazing scenery over the 15 miles I was able to trek. It was still worth it, even though I didn't reach the peak.

Mt. Rose with Friends (Washoe County, Nevada)

Somewhat surprisingly, my legs and feet were ready for another hike just a few days after my Ruby Mountain Adventure. It was a good thing too. My friend Nate and I are participating in a fitness contest at work, in which we have to do various activities throughout the week for seven weeks. Hiking to the summit of Mt. Rose should knock out a couple of those. Joining us for the hike were Nate's friend Jen, her young son, Casen, and her friend Wendy.

Getting a 8:30ish start at the Mt. Rose trail head, we finished off some fantastic tri-tip breakfast burritos that Jen had made for the trip. Jen loaded her son into a well designed pack and we were off. The day had a lot of cloud cover, but I suspected that would be beneficial during the last half of the hike, which has no shade at all, and can get extremely hot during a sunny summer day.

We made pretty good time heading up the mountain. I admit, I was a little concerned with Jen carrying such a load, but she is an experienced backpacker and made an impressive showing all the way to the top. So much so, that many other hikers along the trail were commenting that if she could do it with a toddler on her back, then they themselves had no excuse for not making the summit.

Once we reached the summit, we stopped for some snacks and to rest. Nate made a fantastic fruit salad that he shared with everyone. We took a few pictures, and then Nate and I used his hiking poles to stage a 'light-saber' fight for one shot. As the contest is centered around the upcoming Star Wars movie, it seemed appropriate. In the distance, Nate asked what a tall peak to the northwest was, and I explained that it was Lassen Peak, which he, I and another friend are intending to hike up next weekend.

We packed our packs, cleaned our mess, and started the long trek back to the cars. Downhill on Mt. Rose is always so much easier, due to it's steady but gentle incline. Arriving back at the trail head, we said our good byes and went our separate ways. While we didn't set any speed records, it was a very enjoyable day hike with some good company.

Ruby Crest Trail (Elko County, Nevada)

One of my planned trips for this year, has been the Ruby Crest National Recreation Trail. I have heard from many friends and co-workers of the amazing terrain and endless beauty of the Ruby Mountains in Northeastern Nevada. Unfortunately, my normal hiking buddies could not do the trip this summer. As I got to know people and make friends at my new company, I got a couple of co-workers interested and eventually, they decided to join me for this backpacking adventure. 

We left Reno on Friday evening immediately after work. Rich (Inspector Gadget) and I in his vehicle, while Bill (Diesel), Bill's daughter Crista (Wild Flower), and her best friend Veronica (Red Feather) drove out in Crista's SUV. The drive to Elko takes about four hours, and even though we left a few minutes after four, we didn't arrive at our campsite in Lamoille Canyon at the north end of the Rubies until nearly dark. We pitched our tents and got a good nights sleep, but not before a few well-spent minutes gazing up at the magnificent starry sky above. As we were in a pretty remote area, the sky was alive with stars and the Milky Way was clearly visible.

Rising early, we broke camp and decided to leave Crista's vehicle at the northern trail head, which was just a couple of miles away from our camp. We then packed all five of us and our packs into Rich's car and drove an hour or so to Harrison Pass and the southern trail head. While the little Rav4 gave it a might try, it just couldn't make it all the way up the Forest Service Road, and so we had to hike a couple of extra miles to the actual trail head from where we had to leave the our ride.

This part of the trail was fairly uneventful, but very hot, as we didn't get started until a little after nine. The trail did offer some great views though of the range, including Green Mountain, so named because of the lush grasses covering it. Reaching the trail head sign, we officially started our trip, and were soon greeted by a couple of gigantic Mormon crickets along the trail. 

Through this part of the trail, the water sources were common as small streams dribbled over the path fairly frequently, though this would not be the case in the later parts of the trip. As we saw a couple of different signs indicating side trails, it became a joke to comment about finally reaching the trail head as we pointed to each of these signs in the distance. Crista especially appreciated the humor in this.

The southern end of Ruby Crest Trail is defined by wide green valleys, which of course we had to climb up one and descend into the next one. All through this section of trail, sheep herders (mostly Basque and Peruvians in the 1970's and 80's) had carved their initials and names on the small white aspen trees that are prevalent here. Over time, the trees have attempted to heal their scars, turning the site into a very rustic and ancient looking graffiti haven. 

Eventually reaching the valley of the south fork of Smith Creek, we decided to make camp. Our mileage, including the extra two, was right around 10.5 for the day. Not a bad first day, after getting a late start. Having contacted the Forest Service and obtaining a fire permit prior to the trip, I knew we were okay building a fire here along the creek. While I dug out a fire pit and placed some small stones around it to enclose, Rich gathered some firewood. Meanwhile, the girls cleaned up at the creek, which we had excellent access to just a few yards away. We cooked some dinner, mostly dehydrated meals, took a couple of swigs of scotch and/or bourbon, and called it a night.

I slept reasonably well, but woke every time I needed to roll over. While my sleeping pad and bag are pretty high quality, it's still not as comfortable as my bed at home. I couldn't help, but think of my wife at home alone. I am so lucky to have partner that allows me to go on great adventures like this.

After rising the next morning, Bill told me the tale of his early morning encounter with a large buck, who he discovered while doing his daily morning bathroom duties in the nearby treeline. We prepared some breakfast and started to break camp. We were on the trail again by 7:30, which isn't great, but isn't terrible either. 

We had originally intended the second day of the trek to be our longest one for pure mileage. The guide we were using (from an internet blog like this one) suggested doing the trip in four days instead of our three, and also recommended campsites. Night one, those early backpackers camped right where we did, but they had suggested the shores of the high alpine Overland Lake as the site for the second night's camp. Unfortunately, our timetable needed to be compressed into three days due to my limited vacation time. Our plan was to reach the lake by lunchtime, eat a hearty meal, refill our water supply, and then push on the next 10-12 miles necessary to reach the next water source.

As we started along our planned route, we discovered that it was much more difficult terrain than we had originally thought. The uphills were killer and there were so many of them. The views were tremendous, but we had to work for them. Eventually, we reached the crest overlooking Overland Lake. Bill anxious to drop a fishing line into the famed fishing hole, shouted and sprinted down several switchbacks, while the rest of his laughed and carefully made our way down. The fame of the fishing here was well deserved. I believe he caught 6 trout in 7 or 8 casts, but none were big enough to fillet into a nice meal. As the rest of us finally reached a nice boulder-laden area with good water access, we decided to take an extended break for lunch. After the tremendous effort necessary to get here, I think we all just took twenty or so minutes to relax in the shade.

After we caught our breath, we prepared some lunch and discussed our plans for the remainder of the day. We knew that this could potentially be our last available water for 10-12 miles and so that played into our decision. As the clock turned to 4 PM, we finally pushed on, thinking we would reach the next water shortly before dark.

This next middle section of the Ruby Crest Trail skirts a couple of magnificent peaks and crosses a few small creeks, one of which has a beautiful black slate waterfall just over the trail. We took advantage of this and re-capped our water bottles and bladders. After a number of switchbacks, the weather turned against us and it started to drizzle, slowing our progress even more. Though we were without any water source, we decided to camp on a small saddle near King's Peak. We had been conserving water and believed we could make it to water early the next morning. Total mileage for the day was approximately 10.5 miles.

We set up our tents and began bedding down for the night, after a quick meal. I got unlucky and chose a spot for my tent with a number of prickly plans underneath and so had to do some weed-whacking before going to sleep. As these mild storms rolled in, we were greeted by a beautiful rainbow in the distance to the east. What a sight to see!!!

Awake at about 5:15 in the morning, we were greeted by the echoing chatter of coyotes in the valley to the west. It really was an amazing way to wake up. We quickly broke camp and started our way up to what I had, at the time, believed to be Wine's Peak, the tallest peak on the trail itself, but upon our return, I discovered my mistake. Still, we took a few moments to relish our victory for having made it this far. The peak offered amazing views to the southeast and north east.

Had my map-reading been correct, we should have only had another 3 or 4 miles to water, but little did we know at the time that I was mistaken about Wine's Peak. As we followed the sweeping saddle between this unknown peak and the next, we were in awe of Long Valley, directly to our west. More to the point though, our water was starting to run low. We climbed peak after peak, traversed saddle after saddle, and eventually ran into some of the first people we had seen on the trail. 

As we looked in awe at Ruby Dome and the other 11k+ peaks in the distance, a nice couple pointed out North Furlong Creek in the distance. They explained that they were day-hiking from the lake supplied by this creek. Anxious to scout it out, I told the rest of my party that I was going to increase my pace a bit and find our water source. 

The trail dipped down into a lush little forest through a series of switchbacks. Though, as I crossed dry creek-bed after dry creek-bed, I began to get a little concerned that our water source may have dried up in this terrible drought. I eventually reached the intersection of the North Furlong Lake Trail and our Ruby Crest Trail. At this point, I decided to wait for my team in order to decide what to do next. After some discussion, we decided to push on to the next lake on the map, but the same couple we had seen early suddenly showed up and pointed us to a section of the creek that had running water. Apparently, the creek flows under ground for quite a ways until reaching that point. It became quite the joke, of which I was the butt, when the couple agreed to yell at us when they reached water along the North Furlong Trail. We had expected it to be a few minutes before we heard them, but it was actually less than one. Everyone looked at me and gave me a a well-deserved laugh.

Bill, Crista, Veronica, and I filled our water supply, while we let an exhausted Rich relax a bit. That's not to say that we were all tired, but Rich seemed a little worse off than the rest of us. After eating some jerky, nuts, and other assorted snack foods for lunch at this stop, we decided to push on. As this was our last day on the trail, we still had many miles to go.

In addition to helping us find water, the couple had told us that we only had two more rises to get over in order to get back to Lamoille Canyon. The first proved to be fairly easy and dropped us out into a large beautifully green and lush meadow. As we passed through this area though, the lightest of drizzles started again. It took us some time to clear this area and make to the next and probably largest lake directly on the trail, Favre Lake. 

Here we encountered a few campers who told us we simply had to make it over the next rise and it was all downhill from there. What they didn't tell us was how difficult that rise would be. It took us a long while to reach Liberty Lake and beyond, which finally lead to the pass overlooking the our destination, the northern trail head. 

By this time, the drizzle had picked up and we put our rain gear on. We had originally thought this last bit to be only a mile or two, but as we made our way down switchback after switchback we eventually reached another sign indicating that it was two miles more to the parking lot. Wow! What a disappointment that was. We were all aching and in pain, and by this point simply wanted to finish strong. That must have been the absolute longest two miles ever as we passed over we rock, walked across several fashioned bridges, and finally, finally, finally reached Crista's truck. We all gave a barbaric yawp in recognition of our long journey and our victory over these pristine mountains.

In total, we traversed 36 miles of backpacking heaven from the morning of July 26th through the early evening of July 28th. We were exhausted, we were sore, we were hungry, but we had just accomplished something that none of us would ever forget! Way to go team!!!

Oh, and by the way . . . they gave me the trail name 'Trail Boss'.